Sometimes It All Just Works Out
by The Breeze
Summary: First Pegasus, now this.  Adama was beginning to think that someone had taken out an ad in some intergalactic publication: Ragtag Fleet looking for interesting ships, FTL drive a must, use Priority One Channel to contact.  References required.
1. Luck and Skill

**Sometimes It All Just Works Out**

**Chapter One – Luck and Skill**

_First Day of the Second Cylon War_

All the worlds were coming to an end, the Cylons were laying waste to humanity, but Chief Tyrol's life still consisted of pilots screaming at him over events he had no control over.

"What the frak do you mean we have no Vipers left to launch? What's wrong with 092 over there?"

Tyrol knew that Chad Lazacs, call sign Dogmeat, was stressed, but Tyrol just did not have time for this shit.

"Look, Dogmeat, someone apparently didn't think a museum piece was supposed to fly again and they managed to dent the reactor cavity while yanking the core. It's an hour job at least, I can't deal with it. You want to fly it later, you fix the damned thing."

Much to Tyrol's amazement, Chad smiled. He had been a deck hand long before he was a pilot, and he knew what needed to be done. "Once a knuckledragger, always a knuckledragger, eh Chief? No problem. Locker C-12, right?"

Tyrol nodded. "Yeah, the air-tapper and the polisher should be in there. You'll need the small laser miller from the deck cart too. It should be easy, it's on the outer edge right by the insertion ring."

Chad didn't have any questions, which was a good thing because Specialist Cally ran up to Tyrol just then. Apparently Starbuck was in an abort-hold in a launch tube." _Frak. We have no ammo for the ship's batteries and our best pilot is sitting in her Viper staring at a closed launch door.  
_

Chad ran off to get his tools. A Viper pilot without a functional Viper was no pilot at all; he knew that he would have to fix his own bird if he wanted to fly today.

_**At that moment**_

It had been over three minutes since Vector had launched his Viper from _Galactica_, and he was already pretty sure that he was going to die. He was doing his best to dodge the oncoming Cylon raiders, but this was nothing like the simulators. Still, he thought he just might have a chance, if only _Galactica's_ problem child would join the fight..

"_Starbuck, where are you? We need help!"_

Vector prayed to the Gods of Kobol that he would hear Kara Thrace's laugh followed by some catty remark, perhaps mocking his manhood. Instead, he heard her say, anger evident even over the radio frequency, _"Broke bird in tube. Knuckledraggers working on it, estimate five minutes."_

Vector didn't have five minutes. He had received his call sign, like many pilots, in training, where his unusually precise, angular turns made a 3-D map of his flights look like a geometric chart of some sort. He bore down on a Cylon, guns blazing, and as he saw the Cylon take his hits, he jerked his Viper into a sharp ninety degree turn. He just had time to register that he had turned directly into the path of yet another Cylon, and triggered his guns quickly before--

He never quite saw some of his bullets graze the oncoming Cylon missile, even as his other bullets went on to destroy the Cylon raider that launched the missile destined to kill him. The bullet that nicked the missile failed to destroy it, or even to alter its course – but it damaged the missile's propellant engine.

A small burst of burning combustion gases – not quite true fire, for there is no oxygen in space – shot forward inside the missile body. It erupted from the now-dead engine and scorched the circuitry for the detonation trigger. The missile was now effectively disarmed, but that did not save Vector as the dead missile punched through the canopy of his Viper and stuck him directly in his chest, turning it into a mass of pulp even as he tried to decelerate his Viper.

A strange sort of physics was at work here. The Viper's forward engines were throttling back, even as the missile struck at a greatly reduced speed, and as Vector's corpse released the controls the engines obediently went to idle. The lingering thrust of the engines was canceled out by the forward momentum of the dead missile – which meant the Viper's overall speed plummeted, and instead of speeding in its last powered direction it began to drift as if dead in space.

The Viper wasn't dead, for the rugged titanium seatback that was supposed to allow a pilot to eject safely after an engine explosion instead worked in reverse. The missile stopped at the hard plate after penetrating the seat, and rather than protecting the pilot from an exploding engine it protected the three engines from the missile. The Cylon weapon never had to the chance to tear through the engines just like it had through Vector's chest. Thus, even though Vector was dead like so many other billions of people today, his Viper was alive, and this would turn out to be quite fortunate.

_**A Few Minutes Later**_

"_ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR IMPACT!"_

Chad's mind went blank as his body flew across the port flight pod. The next thing he knew, he was standing next to the Chief , who was braced against a bulkhead talking on one of the "last-resort" sound powered phones meant to allow the crew to communicate even in the even of total electrical failure.

He couldn't remember how he got from the Viper to where the Chief was. He tried to listen to the Chief, and in several seconds the strange faraway humming in his ears formed into words he could understand. The Chief hung up the phone and looked at Chad. "We took a nuke on the forward port bay."

Chad understood immediately. "I'll grab some tools and see if I can help."

There was no need for any more words.

Chad grabbed a tool backpack and started forward. He made sure that in addition to a standard set of tools there was a hydraulic spreader and some crowbars in there; it had been a long, long time since he had pried open warped steel doors in specialty instruction, where he had first learned the ways of the deck after basic training. He did know, however, that the odds of him rescuing people with his bare hands were pretty slim. He thought about getting a survival suit, and realized that he didn't have time.

_Frak it. I'll just get my flight helmet and hope for the best._

The Viper pilot knew that his flight suit would not give him the same protection against fire as a full deck-issue survival suit, but he figured it was better than nothing. Satisfied that he was prepared, he started forward, hoping to save lives.

He quickly freed two people from a damaged compartment before pushing forward. Later, no one aboard _Galactica_ would suspect that Dogmeat would just barely have time to grab a fire extinguisher before he was vented out to space along with dozens of other crew members, as Colonel Tigh did what he had to do to save the ship.

There was a lot Galen Tyrol didn't know about Captain Chad Lazacs. Still, as Tyrol hung up a picture of Dogmeat in Memorial Hall, he thought to himself_, not bad for a Viper puke. Guess he was still a knuckledragger at heart._

The two deckhands who had escaped out a jammed door that Dogmeat had wrenched open couldn't agree more. They lingered, looking at the picture of Lazacs a bit longer before turning and following Tyrol back to the hanger bay. The time for mourning was over; there were birds to get in the launch tubes and the Big G couldn't very well maintain herself, could she?

_**Four Years Later**_, **Galactica _CIC_**

Admiral William Adama strode into CIC and went up to Felix Gaeta, who had the deck. Colonel Tigh was enjoying a rare night off, leaving Gaeta in charge of CIC for the shift.

"Sitrep."

Gaeta, turned to the Admiral and said, "Single large Dradis contact just jumped in range. Colonial transponder but no contact yet."

"How large?"

"About as large as a battlestar, I'd guess, sir."

Adama sighed. "Or a Cylon basestar, Mr. Gaeta?"

Gaeta nodded. "Yes, sir. They jumped just barely inside Dradis range, pretty far away. They do not appear to be closing, they're just sitting there. The CAP is moving to intercept but it will take them a while to close the distance. Alert fighters have been launched as well. I thought we had enough time before they closed that we could hold off a bit before jumping the fleet, just in case it really is a friendly. I knew you'd get to the CIC quickly, sir."

Adama nodded, "Good call, Mr. Gaeta." He then turned to the petty officer who had taken Dee's place at communications, but before he could speak, the petty officer spoke first.

"Incoming call, ship-to-ship, Priority One channel."

"This should be interesting. On speaker," said Adama, as he thought to himself, _what now?_

A pleasant feminine voice came over the speakers. "_This is the CHSV Preserver calling the Battlestar Galactica. Admiral Adama, we are very pleased to find you and your fleet."_

Colonel Tigh entered the CIC just in time to hear the other ship's call. "_Preserver?_ Are they serious?"

Adama reached down to pick up the communications headset. "That would be nice, wouldn't it, Saul?" he growled, as conflicting emotions appeared to war on his face, suspicion fighting with hope.

Gaeta did not try to hide the look of puzzlement on his face. "Sir, what is a CHSV?"

Adama put the headset to his ear. "Hope, Mr. Gaeta, if it's not a Cylon trick. Direct contact."

"_Preserver, this is Galactica actual. You have our attention. Send recognition codes."_


	2. Simply Not Credible

Chapter Two – Simply Not Credible

The other ship replied quickly.

"_I regret we can't transmit recognition codes, Admiral. You may recall that we were decommissioned a couple of weeks before the attack on the colonies. Our crew wasn't even released yet when FleetSec showed up to wipe our classified systems. It's a bit of a story, but we've still got our full crew plus a lot of extras."_

Adama did not immediately reply to the other ship, but rather addressed his bridge crew. He actually couldn't recall having heard anything about _Preserve_r for years before the Cylon attack. "That's just great. Mr. Gaeta, hold position, transmit jump order to civilian fleet." Adama knew that the purpose of the recognition codes was not only to identify a ship electronically, but also to ensure that a ship truly had a Colonial crew.

It took two officers – or, in the case of very small ships, an officer and a pre-selected enlisted crewman – to unlock the console allowing a communications specialist to transmit codes. Once unlocked, the comm specialist could transmit codes, but at regular intervals (usually weekly) or after a power loss lasting more than five minutes the console would have to be unlocked again. The authentication module also had "dummy codes" that would identify if a comm specialist was acting under duress. Finally, there was a glass-encased destruct lever that would destroy the authentication circuitry yet not damage the main communications console. This was to ensure that if a ship was in danger of being boarded the crew could destroy the ship's ability to authenticate yet still coordinate rescue efforts if there was a chance to save the ship.

Gaeta responded to Adama, "Admiral, Fleet is jumping, both we and the other ship holding position."

_At least the Fleet is safe, for now_, Adama thought as he toggled the switch on his headset again.

"_Preserver_, that is troubling but we can work with it. Who am I speaking to?"

"_Admiral, this is Lieutenant Lori Spang, Executive Officer of the Preserver. We are holding position to give your CAP a chance to look us over. We've been looking forward to this for a very long time, sir. We've spent a lot of time thinking about this. May I offer suggestions, sir?"_

Adama looked over at Colonel Tigh, who shrugged and raised his hands in the classic, "_you're asking me?"_ gesture.

"By all means, Lt. Spang."

"_I'm sure, Admiral, that you are aware there are twelve Cylon models. May I suggest you send a Raptor with a crew of two over to us? We'll greet them with on the hanger deck with three hundred smiling humans, and then I and another officer will return to Galactica with your Raptor."_

"That all sounds very well and good, Lieutenant. I am curious as to why your commanding officer can't make the trip."

"_Well, Admiral, my commanding officer is a fine man, and most definitely human, but by all rights he shouldn't be alive. He's a bit afraid that the moment you see him you'll think he's a Cylon and toss him out the nearest airlock and as he's already been accidentally abandoned in space once before he has no desire to repeat the experience, especially sans spacesuit. He has made a command decision that he thinks it best that you hear his story from my lips before meeting you again. He thinks that once you hear his story you will have Doctor Cottle test him first before firing him out a launch tube."_

"I'm not very happy with this, but under the circumstances it seems reasonable. Raptor will launch in five minutes. Galactica out." Adama turned to Tigh, "Do you feel any better about this?"

Colonel Tigh shook his head. "No. I don't feel good about it at all. Still, if it's a Cylon trick it means the skin jobs have evolved a sense of humor."

"Is the President still on board?"

Gaeta responded to Adama. "Yes, sir, she is. Colonial One jumped with the rest of the fleet, but the President, Tory and two members of her security detail are waiting in the briefing room."

"Good. Find Lieutenant Agathon. I want her and Doc Cottle in the briefing room ASAP. Who's on Raptor duty?

Gaeta looked at a small whiteboard. "Racetrack and Helo. Helo is filling in for Bloodhound today."

Adama smiled. Helo didn't usually fly as an ECO too often anymore, but having a senior officer on the Raptor could be a good thing.

"Get them launched. Tell them I want reports when they dock with _Preserver, _and check-ins every sixty seconds on the way back. Anti-duress protocols on landing."

Gaeta was not surprised that Adama wanted the Raptor crew to use the landing procedures that would alert the _Galactica_ if they were being forced to comply with unknown enemies. He picked up a phone to relay Adama's orders to the hanger deck.

"Colonel Tigh, you have the deck. I'm going to meet the President."

Tigh simply nodded as Adama left the CIC.

A few minutes later, Adama was briefing Laura Roslyn.

"So, Admiral could you explain what a CHSV is? Could this "_Preserver" _really be a Colonial ship?"

Adama replied to Roslyn, "A CHSV is a legacy of the First Cylon War. It stands for Colonial Heavy Salvage Vessel. Only four were ever built."

Roslyn nodded. "Yes, now I remember, I once saw a CSV, without the H. Kind of like a space tugboat? Are we to believe that somehow a single craft like this found us this far from Colonial space?"

Adama shrugged. "It's possible. A heavy salvage ship is several orders of magnitude more advanced than your average salvage vessel. They were designed for long-term, heavy duty fleet repair and replenishment, plus intelligence study of captured enemy technology. It's way more than a glorified space tugboat. It's a vessel roughly the size of a battlestar, designed to scrape whatever resources it can from its surrounding environment to support a fleet on detached duty. Aside from the fact that it has very basic armament, a CHSV has factories, repair facilities and intelligence capabilities that can only be matched by a full drydock. Maybe even more. A drydock doesn't have the intelligence apparatus and personnel that a CHSV would have."

"Are you familiar with this ship?"

Adama shook his head. "No. I haven't heard of a CHSV in at least fifteen years. I know two were destroyed in the first war. They said that they were decommissioned right before the Cylon attack, so I don't know why it would have a full crew."

Roslyn sat and absorbed that. She seemed to reach a decision. "Admiral Adama, is it your considered opinion that the miraculous appearance of a ship that could theoretically be a Godsend to the fleet, complete with a captain that won't show himself is simply not credible?"

Adama replied, "I wouldn't go that far. It could be true. For damned sure, I'm not going to do a full dress reception ceremony like I did when_ Pegasus_ showed up out of the blue. I'm going to have a squad of Marines there when I meet their commander and Doctor Cottle is going to do everything up to and including a full anal inspection with his patented bedside manner, right, Jack?"

Cottle snorted. "Yeah, Bill, I've already heard it from Ms. Roslyn's PSS man."

Adama frowned slightly, and the Presidential Security Service man sitting behind Roslyn took it as his cue to speak.

"Admiral, ever since the Aaron Doral bombing incident on _Galactica_ in the early days of the war, we've been worried about the possibility of a Cylon infiltrator carrying a combination of plastic explosives and plastisteel balls in their stomach. Such a suicide bomber would elude normal metal detection so we've asked that Doc Cottle run any new guests through the medical imager to rule that possibility out before they meet with the President."

Adama raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Good call. But as long as we're being paranoid, let's go the extra mile. I want the medical scanner wheeled into the hanger deck, with one of your trainees operating the machine, Jack. You're a cranky old bastard but we can't afford to lose you if a Cylon decides to detonate in sickbay. Sharon, what do you think?"

The Cylon spoke quickly. "They are going through a lot of trouble to put us at ease. They deliberately jumped just barely into Dradis range so that we could detect them, and have put themselves into a position where if they turn on us, what's their gain? Two Raptor pilots? Even the Cylon don't have infinite resources. I don't see what the benefit to the Cylon is."

Roslyn cast an appraising eye over the Cylon officer. "Lieutenant Agathon, they say they have three hundred humans ready to meet us on their hanger deck. Do you think the Cylon could persuade that many humans to turn against us in order to facilitate a deception that would perhaps lure us into letting that ship join the fleet? The Admiral stated that the ship was armed. Perhaps they want to join the fleet and then once we trust them open fire?"

Sharon shook her head. "On New Caprica, out of a population of roughly forty thousand humans, the Cylon were hard-pressed to assemble a police force of a couple of hundred. How many humans were left alive in the colonies? Twelve worlds, who knows how many ships. Who knows? Especially..." Sharon's voice trailed off and she looked down.

Roslyn did not take her eye off of Sharon Agathon. "Especially, Lieutenant?"

Sharon looked up and looked the President right in the eyes, and spoke in a firm, neutral voice.

"Especially if perhaps they plucked survivors from rural areas that escaped the initial nuclear attack. If they saved intact families. If they Cylons are holding their families hostage, they might go along."

Sharon's voice did not reveal any shame she may have felt for the actions of the others of her race. Roslyn wondered to herself if the monotone of Sharon's voice was a carefully contrived attempt to hide her emotions, or if the Cylon defector didn't really care what happened before she decided to joined the Colonials.

_Bill trusts her. Does she love the human race, or does she just love Karl Agathon? If something happened to Karl, would this creature take her child and leave us, going to rejoin the others of her kind? Or do the relationships she's built here truly matter to her? Does she truly believe that oath she took as a Colonial Officer?_

None of these thoughts were put into words by Laura Roslyn. Instead, she merely said, "Thank you, Lieutenant Agathon. I appreciate your insights" in her most pleasant voice.

The Cylon inclined her head slightly. "Madame President."

Adama spoke up. "Laura, a CHSV has pretty limited armament compared to a battlestar. Two missile tubes, one fore, one aft, manual feed. Two point-defense batteries as well. That's pretty much it. I guess if they tried hard enough they could put some Vipers in the air as well."

"I've learned a few things about weaponry in the past few years, Admiral. What you're telling me is that this ship could get off two guided nuclear missiles before the _Galactica_ would even have time to react."

Adama couldn't refute that. "Yes, Madame President. Still-"

Roslyn raised her hand in a halting gesture, "Yes, yes, I know, Bill, it's a military matter, it's a potentially very valuable ship, and I know, I am absolutely certain, that you will take every possible precaution. It's just..." Roslyn took a breath and sighed before continuing in a lower voice, "Bill, it's just after _Pegasus_, I don't want to be disappointed again. We've been through so much..."

Adama smiled. "Don't worry, Laura. After all, this time I outrank our guests."

Laura laughed, a true throaty laugh that made everyone in the room smile. "Unless, of course the _Preserver's_ mysterious unseen commander happens to be a Fleet Admiral."

Adama shot back, "Bite your tongue, Madame President."

Cottle grunted. "So say we all."


	3. The Cylons Among Us

Chapter Three – The Cylons Among Us

Aboard the _Preserver_, Lori walked towards the officer's wardroom. She paused a moment before entering.

Two faces looked up expectantly at her entrance.

"All is going well. Adama has agreed to everything we've proposed. As we thought, he's not exactly thrilled that we haven't told him who our Captain is, but he says he'll go along."

The two Cylons smiled. The Number Three model – the one who looked like D'Anna Biers – spoke first. "It is vital that this goes well. I don't want to think what will happen if this goes wrong."

Chad Lazacs walked through the door in time to say, "If what goes wrong?"

"If I frak up the meeting with _Galactica_. Sir." Lori smiled.

"You won't frak it up. If you do, we'll have a hundred and sixty-seven pissed off Cylons on our hands and I'll get pissed, if I'm still around to be pissed."

Lori gave her commanding officer a grim smile. "I think you mean a hundred and seventy pissed off Cylons. You left out Dianna here and the Twins."

Chad shrugged. "They're always pissed at me anyways. We'll know we have problems if _Galactica's_ raptor turns out to be full of Marines."

The Number Three Model, who answered to the name Dianna, asked Chad, "Are you sure it's wise to have the rest of the fleet so far away?"

The other Cylon in the room, a tall black man who went by the name Simon, spoke up. "The Basestar will be of no use should Adama decide to not be reasonable. It is better that it stay behind to protect the rest of the fleet."

Chad agreed in a firm voice. "The decision has been made. Lori, we're all in your hands. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hide somewhere in case the crew of _Galactica's_ raptor decides they want to visit CIC or something. Good luck, Lori."

"Thank you, Sir. It'll be fine." She paused a moment, as Simon took her hand with a squeeze.

"Be careful, Lori." 

She pulled away, smiling. "Always, Simon, always."

A few minutes later, Lieutenant Dirk Hunley caught up with her in the corridor as she walked to the hanger deck.

"Sir, _Galactica's _raptor is landing. According to the approach communications it appears Captain Agathon is aboard.

Lori beamed a wide smile. "That's good. He's more likely to listen to reason if our little secret slips too soon."

Dirk frowned. "He's also a rather highly-ranked officer to be flying as an ECO for a shuttle mission. Maybe they suspect something."

Lori patted Dirk on the back. "It's not just a shuttle mission, Lieutenant. The _Galactica _is welcoming their long-lost Colonial brethren."

Dirk actually snorted. "Yeah, right, more likely they're trying to figure out if they're going to find Admiral Cain's evil clone or a deck full of scheming Cylon infiltrators."

Lori gave Dirk a dirty look. "Belay that talk, Lieutenant. Helena Cain may have been a psychotic bitch but we are going to the _Galactica,_ and there are _Pegasus _crew on there who still respect that women and _Galactica _people who still resent her. We don't want to stir anything up by speaking ill of the dead. As for scheming Cylon infiltrators, I told them to hide for a while."

Dirk patted the metal briefcase he was carrying. "It's going to be hard to avoid speaking ill of the dead with what I have in here."

"The Laird file?"

Dirk nodded.

"Let me handle it."

"Yes, sir. Tell me, Lieutenant Spang, if you're going to do all the talking, why am I going at all?"

"Because you and I are the most senior officers aboard this ship who won't get tossed out of an airlock on sight."

"Ah. Yes. Good point."

Their conversation ceased as both officers entered the hanger deck, where the raptor was coming to a stop. Long lines of uniformed crew members lined the walls, with a smattering of people in civilian clothes standing around looking at the raptor with excited expressions.

Lori positioned herself in front of the door, Dirk at her side.

A sergeant boomed out, "Honor Guard, _ready!_"

A group of Marines flanked a carpet that had been placed by the hatch of the raptor.

As the hatch swung open, Karl Agathon stepped out and saluted Lori Spang.

"Captain Karl Agathon and Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson, requesting permission to come aboard."

Lori saluted back. "Permission granted. Welcome to the _Preserver_, Captain. I'm Lieutenant Lori Spang and this is Lieutenant Dirk Hunley."

Karl looked around in obvious admiration of the sparkling clean deck. "Wow. It really is a Heavy Salvage ship. I never thought I'd see one of these."

Lori smiled, then barked out, "Crew of the _Preserver!_ Tell the Captain who we are!"

At once, three hundred voices shouted as one, "_WE ARE THE PRESERVER! VACUUM OF THE FLEET!"_

One side of the deck went silent as the other shouted out, "_SUCKING UP RAIDERS!"_

Then, the other side shouted out, "_SPITTING OUT VIPERS!"_

And then, as one, both sides of the deck finished, "_GO ANYWHERE! TAKE ANYTHING! FIX EVERYTHING! CAN DO! WILL DO! CHSV PRESERVER!"_

As the crew finished their chant, Dirk barked out, "Parade rest!" As one, the crew shifted their feet with a _THUNK_ and went silent.

Lori broke the silence. "Sir, would you like to see the ship or does the Admiral want to see us right away?"

Karl smiled. "Yes to both, Lieutenant. I'd love to see the ship but the Admiral wants to see you right away. I don't think we should keep him waiting."

As the two officers of the _Preserver_ followed Karl Agathon into the Raptor, a pair of eyes watched them over a video link to the _Preserver's_ CIC.

"They're away. Signal the Basestar." The order went from the watchstander in CIC to the comm specialist, who then sent a pre-arranged directional burst message that was aimed away from _Galactica_ so that it could not be detected by the old Battlestar.

_**Two Jumps Outside Galactica's DRADIS Range**_

Aboard the waiting Basestar, a lone humanoid Cylon noted the incoming signal from the _Preserver_ and turned to the Centurion who was waiting expectantly.

"All is going according to plan. Spang is away to meet with Adama; we will wait here until the signal is given."

The sweeping red eye of the Cylon Centurion went back and forth once, before the machine replied in a metallic voice.

"By your command."


	4. A Frank Exchange of Views

Chapter Four – A Frank Exchange of Views

Lieutenant Lori Spang was not happy.

She had not really expected a band and welcoming committee upon arrival on board _Galactica_ – although a small part of her had hoped that her fellow Colonials would be as happy to see her as she was to see them – but she had been unprepared to exit the raptor staring into the rifles of no less than a dozen Marines.

Being forced to strip naked on the landing deck of _Galactica _before being brusquely rushed into a medical imager was not exactly pleasant, either. She had never seen Doctor Cottle before, but she knew that the attractive yet clearly unhappy woman examining her was not him. Her questions as to why Doctor Cottle was not performing the examination were met with a short, "I'm replaceable. He's not."

Obviously, the _Galactica _was taking no chances. It did not inspire a sense of confidence that they would be ready to hear what she had to say.

She and Dirk had been ushered into a conference room, and had been left alone. She had no doubt there they were being observed somehow, but they sat, silent, staring ahead for fifteen minutes before the hatch swung open.

_Looks like they figure we're not Cylons in disguise, _she thought as President Laura Roslyn and Admiral William Adama stepped into the room, followed by Colonel Saul Tigh and Presidential Aide Tory Foster.

Lori and Dirk stood as one, and saluted Adama, who gazed at them for a moment before saluting back.

"Welcome aboard the _Galactica._ I am Admiral Adama, and this, " Adama gestured to Laura Roslyn, "is the President of the Twelve Colonies, Laura Roslyn. Please be seated. I assume you have a report for me?"

_Short and to the point. Well, two can play at that game._

Lori nodded. "Yes sir. I'm Lieutenant Lori Spang, and this is Lieutenant Dirk Hunley. I assume you are familiar with the capabilities of a Heavy Salvage Vessel, Admiral?"

"I am. However, I would be grateful if you would explain in detail for the benefit of President Roslyn."

"Yes sir. Madame President, the difference between a normal salvage ship and a Heavy Salvage Vessel is like the difference between a city and a campground. A Heavy Salvage Vessel is designed to support battlestar group elements on long-range, long-duration deployments lasting years if necessary. A CHSV is larger than most Battlestars, and has mining, refining, manufacturing and salvage capabilities on board, along with extensive medical and military intelligence facilities. We also have advanced recreation facilities as well. Four CHSV's were built during the First Cylon War, and we are the last of our kind. We take raw materials from anywhere – wrecked ships, asteroids, inhospitable planets – and break them down to manufacture anything the Fleet could need. Our ship's last assignment during the First War was an extended deep-space search supporting an exploration group trying to determine the location of the Cylon Homeworld. We were away from Colonial space for six years and in that time we were the sole source of supply for the battlegroup we were attached to."

Laura spoke for the first time. "That is quite impressive, Lieutenant Spang. I understand you have some war-fighting capabilities as well, correct?"

Lori noted that an slight gleam of greed had replaced the initial look of mistrust in the eyes of Laura Roslyn.

_She doesn't trust us yet, but her mind is already wondering how we can help the fleet._

"Yes, Madame President. We are more heavily armored than a battlestar, due to the fact that one of our missions is to go into combat zones to extract disabled ships. We have little in the way of offensive armament, however. A couple of missile launchers is about it. Most of our weapons systems are geared towards preventing attackers from getting too close. We also have a Rocknet camouflage system, which we use to make us look like a big floating rock on DRADIS. When Rocknet is deployed, we have no weapon capability whatsoever. We're not meant to fight, we're meant to fix things. Our ship's motto is "vacuum of the fleet, sucking up raiders and spitting out vipers" - it's inelegant, but it does describe what we do. We salvage or extract whatever we can and manufacture or repair whatever the Fleet needs to continue the fight."

Laura looked at Adama and smiled. "Sounds very useful, doesn't it, Admiral?"

Adama didn't answer, but continued to stare straight at Lori. "Please continue with your report."

"Yes sir. We were formally decommissioned two weeks before the Cylon attack. We were due to be transferred to CERA, for use in disaster assistance."

Laura spoke up. "The Colonial Emergency Relief Agency, Lieutenant?"

Lori nodded, "The same, Madame President. Right after the decommissioning ceremony, Fleetsec removed our authentication console codes in preparation for converting us to a civilian government ship rather than a military one. However, before our crew could be reassigned, we were ordered to ready the ship for operation using the existing crew. It appears the geologists were predicting a forty-five percent chance of a volcanic eruption outside the city of Byfrex, on Aerelon. The Adar administration was in a bind. Byfrex held five million people, and they didn't want to evacuate unnecessarily. On the other hand, no one wanted to responsible if the volcano did erupt – we were provisioned and deployed so as to render aid and relocation services if it was necessary to evacuate the city. There was no time for CERA to field and train a crew to work the ship – she is, after all, unique – so Fleet recommissioned us and deployed us on loan to CERA. They didn't have time to give us our authentication console back before the attack, though."

Laura nodded. "I remember, now. President Adar had mentioned that there might be some sort of event on Aerelon and that I would need to pull substitute teachers from every colony if we needed to evacuate a city."

Lori continued. "One day before the Cylon attack, we...received intelligence informing us in advance of the coming Cylon invasion."

Adama's voice dropped low, speaking in a monotone. "You knew about the Cylon attack in advance?"

Lori met the eyes of the Admiral. "Yes, sir, we did. I am very sorry to say that my commanding officer deemed the information not credible. He did, however, pass it on to his superior, who made the same determination. I attempted to bypass both my commanding officer and his superior, and was confined to the brig for insubordination. I did, however, manage to transmit a comm message to the one officer who I was told might believe me."

Adama asked, "Who was that officer?"

Lori did not blink, did not waver, as she looked into the eyes of the Admiral. "You, sir. The Cylon agent who warned me about the attack told me that you were the one person in the fleet who would have reason to listen."

Adama replied, "I never received any such message."

Lori closed her eyes, and recited from memory, "Commander Adama, I have been told that what you experienced on the ice planet during Operation Raptor Talon was just the beginning. You remember what you saw. Be aware that the Cylons know who you are as well, and that the experiments you observed bore fruit. The Cylons have assumed human form and a massive thermonuclear attack will be mounted against the Colonies within a day. Most military computer systems have been compromised and will fail during attack; inform all Fleet units that they should switch to manual operation. Contact me at Aerelon aboard _Preserver _for more details. Lieutenant Lori Spang."

Laura shook her head. "Dear Gods. Bill, can you verify this?"

Without a word, William Adama stood up and left the room.

The remaining five people sat in silence until Adama returned a few minutes later, bearing a piece of paper.

"Mr. Gaeta has once again outdone himself in efficiency. He has discovered that the day of _Galactica's _decommissioning we received this message, and it matches word for word what you just said. Apparently, communications was being swamped that day with messages congratulating me on my retirement. There was a backlog for all non-priority messages and this was encrypted, so it never got decrypted prior to the attack. After the attack, they dumped all the backlogged messages as irrelevant as things were a bit busy."

Lori looked down at the desk, and saw Laura Roslyn's hand tremble and start to move towards the Admiral before she clenched it and moved it under the desk. At that moment, she realized the relationship between the President and the Admiral was more complex that she thought.

_She wants to comfort him, but she won't do it where others can see. She's afraid that he will blame himself. She doesn't know it's my fault._

"I'm so sorry, sir. If I had been more clever, I wouldn't have had my access stripped from me. I was in so much hot water for going over the Captain's head that I lost my comm privs, and could only send standard encrypted messages, I couldn't set high priorities on them. If I had kept my head and contacted you first the message would have been decoded in time."

Adama looked at Lori again. "I knew about the backlog. I could have assigned more people to deal with it and I didn't. If I had run my comms with military efficiency instead of relaxing perhaps twenty billion people would still be alive. We all have our failings to haunt us. We can't fix them. We can only move forward. What happened next?"

Lori replied, "The Cylons attacked. At the first word of the attack, the Captain lifted off, performed a jump, and deployed the Rocknet. He then released me from the brig, told me I had CIC, and went to the showers, where he ate the barrel of his service weapon. We spent some time rescuing various people, civilian and military, deploying our intelligence assets and then set out in search of you."

Adama nodded. "What is your ship's status?"

Lori's voice had a hint of pride. "Fully operational, sir. We have 1800 souls on board, including 300 children born since the attack. We have a program set up to encourage people to have children. Have a kid, get more private space. _Preserver_ has 800 military personnel aboard, 650 adult civilians and 350 children total. We have three Shadowtugs left out of our original complement of four, and we produce two vipers a day. We have more vipers than _Galactica_ can carry, waiting in storage, ready for service. We also have enough salvaged ammo stores to resupply all of _Galactica's _ordinance four times over. Of our civilians, 180 of them are trained police officers, 30 of them are medical doctors. We had them aboard to assist in the evacuation and relocation of the Byfrex population. We can deploy 3 police officers on each ship in your fleet, and one doctor for every two ships. We have an army of knuckledraggers who are dying for the opportunity to crawl over every inch of your ship, Admiral, with the express desire to make her better than new. We have a small civilian fleet of eight ships, two Colonial Fleet Light Cruisers and one very old capital ship sitting outside your DRADIS range. And, we have some ECR's that we'd be honored to share with your fleet if you're tired of eating algae."

Adama and Roslyn looked awestruck. Tigh simply snorted, and Tory's eyes were wide.

Lori smiled. "Any questions on what I've covered so far?"

Laura found her voice. "What exactly is an ECR?"

Tigh spoke, for the first time. "Extend Combat Ration. Designed for long deployments, each one is designed to provide the minimum nutrition required for four soldiers for one day. Damn things last forever, too. Just how many do you have in stores, Lieutenant?"

Lori's smile grew bigger. "Roughly twenty million, Colonel. Holds and holds full of the things, in nine varieties as well."

Tigh laughed, "Bill, I think I'm going to have dinner in the _Preserver's_ wardroom tonight, if you don't mind."

Adama didn't smile. "You spoke of your deployed intelligence capability. I'd like to hear more about that."

The smile vanished from Lori's face. "Forgive me, Admiral, but this is most sensitive. Suffice to say that our efforts to understand the Cylon have been rather successful. You are an Admiral, and I am bound to follow your orders, but before continuing I must insist that I verify the origin of every one in this room. We have gathered that your Cylon detection abilities are rudimentary at best; if you will allow me, we have a simple Cylon detection device that makes a small prick on your finger and conclusively separates Cylon from human in about three seconds."

Tigh laughed. "Sounds miraculous. How do you propose to test this device?"

Lori spoke without hesitation. "If you could summon Lieutenant Agathon?"

Adama stood up and opened the hatch, saying to the Marine outside, "Pass the word for Lieutenant Agathon, right away."

He sat back down. "You know about Lieutenant Agathon, then?"

Lori nodded. "As I said, our intelligence capabilities are extensive."

Adama smiled. "Good. I admire efficiency in an officer. You have this device with you?"

Lori looked at Dirk and nodded, and the other lieutenant opened up his case and removed a small electronic device slightly larger than a deck of cards.

"Your crew already inspected this on the hanger deck when we came aboard, sir. They didn't know what it was but they examined the point to verify that it wasn't poisoned or anything. The operator uses this keyboard to set the detection light, which can be one of four different colors. The upper light will flash one color for a Cylon, and the other three colors all indicate a human. This information is classified; we pass this off as a simple blood nutrient test. Even if a Cylon suspected what this device really was, they would not know that it was accurate until it was two light since the color to indicate a Cylon changes depending on what the operator sets it too. The numbers on the LCD display actually do indicate a basic breakdown of blood chemistry; this thing is great at detecting diabetes, for example."

He handed the device to Adama who looked at it, saying, "Quite interesting. Baltar will be appalled. All his work on his Amazing Cylon Detector made meaningless by this little box. How did you make it and does it really work?"

Lori responded, "It works flawlessly, but I'd be more comfortable explaining how we created it after everyone in this room has been tested."

Adama actually shrugged. "Suit yourself, Lieutenant."

Just then, Lieutenant. Sharon Agathon came into the room.

Adama sounded almost jovial as he turned to her and said, "Lieutenant Agathon, our new friends have a device that will verify that you are indeed a Cylon. Would you help us test it out?"

Adama had a light tone, but he noticed that the _Preserver_ officers did not show the slightest reaction to being in the presence of a known Cylon. It confirmed some things that he had been suspecting.

A few minutes later, after Dirk had helped Adama program the device, it had confirmed that while William Adama was no Cylon, Sharon Agathon definitely was. Adama then tested Laura himself.

He then handed the device back to Lori, saying, "I like this thing. Would have come in very useful a long time ago. Here, why don't you test my Executive Officer?"

Tigh's face was stony as he put his finger in the plastic sleeve on top of the device. A few seconds later, the light flashed green and both Lori and Dirk stood up, suddenly very alert, eyes on Colonel Tigh and hands away from their bodies.

Tigh smiled. Tory looked grim. Laura Roslyn's eyes were wide, and Adama actually narrowed his eyes as he looked at Lori.

Lori's voice was firm, "Admiral, it appears that Colonel Tigh is a Cylon."

Adama nodded. "Of course he is. So is Ms. Foster here, for that matter. I think we've pretty well established that just because a person is a Cylon it doesn't necessary mean they are always an enemy of humanity. I think you feel the same way, but I need some more questions answered. Now that we've seen your little toy works, why don't you sit back down and tell me about your mysterious captain, and why there's a First Cylon War era basestar shadowing us outside DRADIS range. In fact, I think I'll make that an order, Lieutenant."

Lori did not so much sit as collapse back into her seat.

_Have I just frakked everything up or are they really just that smart?_


	5. Enlightenment

Chapter 5 – Enlightenment

Lori sighed, and then looked Admiral Adama straight in the eye.

"The commander of the _Preserver _is Captain Chad Lazacs, formerly of _Galactica,_ call sign "Dogmeat."

Adama and Tigh looked at each other sharply, even as Tigh paled. Adama spoke first.

"I would be interested in learning how an officer who was supposedly killed on _Galactica_ on the first day of the war is now alive and well, commanding a heavy ship."

Lori nodded. "Of course, sir. You may recall that you never recovered his body."

Tigh's voice was like granite. "It was vented out to space."

"Yes sir. He was. He had gone into the port bay to attempt to rescue trapped crewmen. He was wearing his Viper flightsuit instead of a vacuum worksuit, but he had air, and of course his deck tools strapped to his back. He also had a fire extinguisher. When he was expelled from the bay in the depressurization, he used short bursts of the extinguisher to propel himself towards the wreckage of several Vipers. He managed to find one where the flightsuit of the pilot was breached but the Viper itself was mostly intact. After salvaging the canopy off of another Viper, he had a fully-functional craft to keep him alive. We found him a day later."

Tigh looked at Lori and Dirk in disbelief, but Adama merely chuckled.

"I doubt a Cylon could have dreamed up a story that outlandish." At this, Tigh gave Adama a scowl, and Adama replied, "Present company excepted, of course, Saul, I've read enough of your readiness reports to know full well of your talent for creative invention."

Adama continued, "On the other hand, I know full well that Dogmeat rivals Chief Tyrol in his ability to construct usable equipment from scrap. Procedures dictate that DC crews wear appropriate gear to protect against decompression and expulsion when dealing with damaged areas like what we experienced that day; normally we would have sent a Raptor out to see if anyone had survived but we had to get out of there, fast. I regret it."

Lori replied softly, "Nothing to regret, sir, Captain Lazacs did a search for other survivors and found none. It all worked out. I turned command of _Preserver_ over to him when we found him, and quite frankly there have been times when I've been very glad that he's had to shoulder the burden of full command and not me."

Laura Roslyn spoke up. "How did you find him, lieutenant?"

"After the attack, I deployed our Rocknet camouflage system and launched our Shadowtugs. The debris floating around Colonial space was everywhere; no one noticed one more big rock drifting through space, and it appears the the Cylons have never bothered to develop the technology to track the Tugs. They use some different Stealth tech than the old Stealthstars, and I guess the Cylons got cocky; when they found they had the ability to track the Stealthstars they never thought to continue their research; our intelligence shows they never even understood that the Shadowtugs were stealthy."

Laura started to realize what Lori was driving at.

"You rescued survivors, did you, Lieutenant? How many?

"Roughly 3500, spread out over the eight civies. Most of the military we rescued are on the _Preserver_ or on one of our two light cruisers."

Adama noticed something missing from that statement. "And the crew of the "very old capital ship" you mentioned, Lieutenant?"

Dirk spoke up. "The capital ship is a First Cylon War-era basestar. It carries a crew of 167 Cylon Centurions, along with about 40 Colonial pilots and another newly-commissioned 700 pilots that are still training. We've retrofitted the 400 raiders onboard to operate with two pilots, either Centurion or Colonial."

Laura shook her head. "Oh, that's just lovely. We've come full circle. Have the Centurions been reprogrammed to serve us, and are they going to rebel again?"

Lori replied, hesitantly, "Actually, they...joined us of their free will. They have agreed to accept Colonial leadership for military purposes, but they are treated by us as allies, sort of like a sovereign nation."

Adama, "How the hell did that happen?"

Lori said, "We have three humanform Cylons working with us in our Fleet, two Number Twos, the model you would call Simon, and one Number Three. We stumbled upon the derelict basestar when it was in a powered-down, standby mode. Our number Twos, one called Simon, one called Evan, came up with the idea to reactivate the crew, one by one, explain that the humanform Cylons in Cylon society were oppressing the purely mechanical Cylons, and let them make a choice; work with us or be deactivated. Our number Twos, like most Twos, are scientists. Simon specializes in biological issues and Evan is an electronics specialists. Between the two of the them, they can explain almost every aspect of the Cylon. Working together, they developed the handheld Cylon detector we've already shown you. They've also modified all of our navigation computers and FTL drives to operate even beyond standard Cylon specifications."

Saul's voice was deceptively casual. "How many Centurions decided not to join you?"

Dirk answered him. "Out of 1600 Centurions on the Basestar, only 483 decided to renounce the pursuit of humanity and the destruction of our race. Evan can monitor a Centurion's systems to determine if they are lying, but most of them are actually surprisingly honest. 163 Centurions are still with us; 300 agreed to refrain from hostilities against us but instead attempted to assault the Cylon homeworld in an attempt to free their fell Centurions from humanoid Cylon rule. The vast majority of them were destroyed in that effort; a few of them are still in hiding and provide us occasional intelligence. Of the Cylons who refused to cease hostilities against us, they had their silica pathways wiped and were disassembled for parts."

Adama spoke next. "No thought was given to reprogramming them and using them as pure soldiers?"

Lori's voice was firm. "No, sir. It was decided we didn't want to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors who triggered the First Cylon War by trying to force intelligent machines into fighting our petty little internal wars for us. Also, it would have been extremely offensive to our Cylon allies; Captain Lazacs decided it was better to have a couple of hundred Cylons working with us of their own free will than 1600 reprogrammed robots that could turn on us at any time."

The two _Preserver_ officers could see that Laura looked appalled. Tigh had an amused look on his face, while Sharon Agathon was maintaining a wooden expression, although an occasional smirk did cross her face.

Adama, however, understood the full implications of what his guests were telling him.

"I would imagine, then, that your intelligence capabilities dwarf ours."

Lori's pride was evident. "Sir, we have the Cylon communication and data storage net completely, absolutely penetrated. We have another 22 humanform Cylons, representing every model of the known seven models except Cavils, who work with us in one way or another, either on the Colonial homeworlds or in Cylon territory itself. We actually have Cylon agents who routinely smuggle survivors from the Colonies to us. We estimate there are still about 30,000 Colonials hiding on the Colonies themselves or throughout Colonial and uncharted space. The Cylons who work with us are disenchanted with the destruction of Colonial civilization and also have qualms with the suppression of the more machine-like Cylons. We suspect we could get many, many more Cylons to join us, but we are extremely careful with who we approach. Quite frankly, the Cylon government has no idea we survived the attack. We feel that the seeds of a general civil war in Cylon society is quite possible, and we want to make sure that the side that prevails is the side we can live with."

Tigh then questioned Lori. "And what do you know about the Final Five cylons, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing, sir. We suspect they had some falling out with the other Seven, and left somewhere on their own. They may have been more advanced than the other Cylons, since they seem to have wiped out almost all evidence of the their existence."

Tigh nodded. "We have only seen one of each model; I haven't run into myself anywhere, that's for damned sure. We don't think we're true sleepers. We think we may have been placed in a position to protect the Fleet, but there's a helluva lot of coincidences that had to line up that way if that's the case."

Lori asked, "Will you show us who the other four are so we can see if they have duplicates in our Fleet?"

Adama replied. "Other three. We know who four of the final Five is; one remaining Cylon is still a mystery."

Laura interjected, "I hate to back up, but we've had Sharon come over to us, and we're getting increasing cooperation from our captive Number Six every day. Why haven't the Cylons tried to lock down their communication grid more if they know that some Cylons eventually join us?"

Lori smiled. "As I said, they don't know about our Cylon allies. They view Caprica Six and Sharon Agathons as the extreme exceptions, not the rule. They've instituted some basic safeguards but Evan is able to just ignore them; he was one of the designers of their entire communication infrastructure, after all."

Adama lowered his head for a few moments, before he seemed to come to a decision.

"Lieutenant, I am satisfied with your report. There's still a lot more that I'd like to know, but I would like to inspect your ship as soon as possible, and I'd like to welcome your fleet to join ours."

Lori smiled, but Dirk did not as he said, "Sir, there's one more duty we have to perform" as he opened his case and extracted some papers.

The _Galactica's_ officers and Laura were silent as Dirk arranged two stacks of papers before him.

"Here is a report of crew and officers who you may have aboard that you took from _Pegasus. _These men and women were forcibly impressed from a civilian fleet the _Pegasus_ encountered. We subsequently located and rescued a small portion of that fleet, and we have family members who wish to be reunited with their loved ones."

Adama nodded and said. "Of course. Give your list to Colonel Tigh and we'll assemble those involved immediately."

Dirk nodded. "The other document I have here is a warrant, executed by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, for the arrest of Dr. Gaius Baltar, for crimes against humanity."

Laura looked sad, "I admire the sentiment, but I'm afraid I issued a general pardon for everyone who survived the attack, and we had a trial that regrettably concluded that Dr. Baltar could not be held to account for his crimes."

Dirk's voice was soft, but firm. "With respect, Madame President, we are aware of that. However, as Lori stated before, while you have maintained the continuity of the Colonial Government by keeping the line of succession of the Executive Branch intact, we likewise have preserved the integrity of the Judiciary. And, once again, with the greatest respect, I would remind the President that her ability to pardon is not absolute. There is an exception."

Laura smiled at the young officer. "Lieutenant, rest assured, I will be in no way offended if you have found some obscure legal loophole that allows me to throw Dr. Baltar out of an airlock."

Dirk didn't smile. "The President of the Colonies has an absolute power to pardon for any offense save one; you may not issue a pardon for crimes against humanity except upon advisement of an investigatory committee and upon review by at least 3 planetary justices."

Laura thought a moment. "You're right, but what crime against humanity did Baltar commit? He's already been tried for his actions on New Caprica; even without the pardon defense a retrial would be a violation of his rights."

Lori answered the President. "The specific crime against humanity that Dr. Baltar committed, according to a sworn statement based upon intelligence gained by penetration of the Cylon computer system, is that..." at this, Lori rustled around some papers before finding what she was looking for, "ok, here it is, that one Gaius Baltar did knowingly and willfully supply a thermonuclear device to a Cylon agent, specifically a Number Six known as Gina Inviere. Dr. Baltar was fully aware that Gina Inviere was a Cylon agent, and assisted her in her escape from captivity aboard the Battlestar Pegasus, an action that resulted in the assassination of Admiral Helena Cain. Said Cylon agent later proceeded to detonate the nuclear device above New Caprica causing the destruction of several Colonial ships and resulting in a loss in excess of 3,000 lives."

There was silence in the room following Lori's statement. After almost a minute, Adama broke the silence by turning to Saul Tigh.

"Find him. Now."


	6. Confrontations

Chapter Six – Confrontations

It was only a few minutes before Tigh came back into the room.

"Word is that Baltar's holed up in that space he shares with his little cult. Dozens of crazy civilians who think he's the answer to their warped prayers. If we go in there it will be the _Gideon _all over again. We have to come up with some excuse for him to come to us."

Laura shook her head. "Never happen. He'll see through it in a heartbeat."

Tigh objected. "He doesn't know we have new charges. We've had plenty of chances to grab him before now, why would he be suspicious?"

Adama simply said, "No stories. We don't send for him. We wait for the sleep cycle and gradually reduce the oxygen content of that section, and when everyone's asleep we walk in, take him and walk out."

Tigh nodded, then frowned. "Won't the alert sensors give an alarm when the oxygen levels drop and the CO2 levels rise?"

Adama smiled. "The reason those people have that section is because it was damaged over New Caprica. We've never reinforced it or done proper repairs, and that's why we let the civilians take it over to relieve some of the crowding in Dogtown. The alert sensors up there no longer function, they won't broadcast an audible alarm. We still have the DC sensors linked to CIC so we haven't worried about it."

Laura smiled. "I find I like the image of Baltar going to sleep with his little harem cult surrounding him and waking up in a nice, secure cell."

Adama said, "As do I. Now," with this, he turned to the two _Preserver_ officers, "I would like to visit the _Preserver._ Sharon, find Starbuck, Lee, Tyrol and Gaeta, and let's take a ride over there. Lieutenants, you are dismissed. Report to the hanger deck and await my party. I need to talk to the President for a moment. "

Laura didn't even have time to open her mouth before Adama shifted his eyes to her and gave a minute shake of his head.

Laura and Adama waited in silence as the crew left the room.

"You don't want me over there, do you, Bill?"

"Not yet. It sounds good, but we've had stuff sound good before. I'm military. I should go first before the President of the Colonies goes on a strange ship."

Laura sighed. "I suppose you're right. Do you want me to send Zarek?"

Adama replied, "No. If everything is what it appears to be, they've accomplished a hell of a feat. I should go first and inspect, and if everything checks out then the first civilian visitor to the _Preserver's_ fleet should be the President. They've earned that."

"I admit, the idea of visiting a Cylon basestar makes my skin crawl."

Adama snorted. "Friendly Cylons or not, there's no way in hell I'm letting you visit a Basestar, Madame President."

Laura paused. "I suppose I will have to recognize them, somehow. Apparently, they are our allies now. Gods!"

"We'll deal with that in due course. First, I want to see this ship myself."

A short time later, Adama was standing on the deck of the _Preserver_, having been received with perfectly correct ceremony as befitting an Admiral.

There was no question, none at all, that the pride and happiness that he could feel from the crew of the ancient ship was totally genuine. His reunion with Chad Lazacs brought back memories of seeing Bulldog for the first time after the pilot's escape from Cylon captivity.

"It's damned good to see you, Dogmeat."

"And you, too, Admiral. Would you like to meet our Cylon friends? They're waiting in a conference room."

"Might as well. Apollo, Athena, you're with me. Starbuck, Chief, get with their ordinance chief and make up a shopping list. Mr. Gaeta, go check out their CIC."

Starbuck grinned, clearly relishing the prospect of stocking up on Viper parts and ammo. Her delight was mirrored in the face of Chief Tyrol, who was already scanning the assembled _Preserver _crew, attempting to identify who his counterpart was.

As Adama and his companions followed Captain Lazacs off the deck, he could hear Gaeta's lone voice behind him.

"Could someone tell me where CIC is?"

_Conference Room One, CHSV Preserver_

Bill Adama had been expecting humanform Cylons. He had, after all, been warned.

However, he was not prepared to see the gold Cylon Centurion – clearly a relic from the First Cylon War – standing in the corner of the conference room, it's red eye slowly moving back and forth.

Adama stood for a long time, staring at the Centurion, who actually spoke first in its slow, heavy computerized voice.

"Admiral Adama. I am pleased to meet you. I am in command of the Cylon Basestar that accompanies the _Preserver's _fleet. My crew looks forward to continuing our productive alliance."

The three humanform Cylons watched, mute, as Adama extended his hand. They couldn't help but notice that Adama's jaw was tightly clenched; clearly, it was difficult for the Admiral to view a fully mechanical Cylon as an ally.

Adama was dimly aware that Sharon and the three other humanform Cylons were staring intensely at each other, even as he forced himself to speak to the robot in front of him.

"I'm pleased to be here. I never thought I'd be shaking hands with a Centurion."

The Centurion intoned gravely, "I thought the same thing about humans, but I learned long ago that some humans can be trusted."

Adama considered that. "What shall I call you?"

The Cylon replied, "My identifier string that I use with my fellow Cylons would be cumbersome for you to recall. You may call me "Cy", as my human friends do."

"You have human friends, not merely allies?"

The Cylon's answer was short. "Yes."

"What do you do with your human friends?"

Adama was not prepared for the answer. "We discuss our purpose in the universe and watch movies. Occasionally we discuss small-ship battle tactics. We also play cards, even though normally trustworthy humans will sometimes attempt to cheat. We overlook those instances as humans are more petty than we Cylon are."

"I see."

Adama stared at the Centurion in silence, before turning to Sharon and muttering, "I wish Starbuck was here to see this instead of on the landing deck."

He suddenly heard the whirring of electronic motors as the Cylon, incredibly, tilted its metallic head.

"You said Starbuck is with you? Starbuck is my oldest human friend. I would like to see Starbuck."

Adama tried his best to look nonplussed.


	7. The Irony of Callsigns

Author's Note: This story was conceived before Razor and Season Four aired. I swear that some of the things in here are logical extrapolations from Season Three; the backstory of the ships plundered by the Pegasus, Baltar's groupie cult; these were all there to see and making use of them was just a lucky guess on my part. However, although I may incorporate some items I find interesting from Season Four – how I love Natalie! - this story should be considered AU as of the end of season three.

Finally, there are those who may feel this is one of those cliched stories where everything is rosy and happy and that this is not in keeping with the theme of Battlestar. Well, hell, it is. Things are going to go very well for the Colonials in this story. I mean, c'mon, the title is "Sometimes It All Works Out" - that means that overall this story is going to be happy for the most part.

However...fear not, dear reader, for if it is gloom, death and conflict you want, the sequel to this story is titled, "Sometimes It Gets Tough". It will be somewhat darker. Of course, for those of you who are just dying to see a little death – so to speak – I urge you to just wait a bit longer, specifically until Chapter 8.

Chapter Seven – The Irony of Callsigns

Kara Thrace felt she had died and gone to Viper heaven. She and Chief Tyrol walked through a metallic cavern, lined bulkhead to bulkhead with neatly ordered shelves stocked full of every part imaginable for a variety of spacecraft. Their guide was a mousy-looking, petite Chief who looked like a strong wind would blow her over. However, she had sharp, quick eyes and the _Preserver_ deck crew clearly respected Chief Cindy Keller.

Craning her neck up to look at the shelves, Kara asked, "Where in the name of the Gods did you get all this stuff."

Keller kept walking as she spoke. "Some of it was in our standard stores. The rest we harvested."

Tyrol muttered, "Harvested...what, like a damned Viper farm?"

Keller gave a short laugh. "I wish. We call it harvesting when we cruise through a post-combat zone and scrounge for parts. Sometimes we do it in the _Preserver_ herself, other times, if there's a danger of Cylon detection but there's something we want badly enough, we take a Shadowtug and jump to where we need to be. Either way, it's a nasty, dangerous job, and the worst thing is that we usually have burial detail accompanying us. Lots of dead crewmen, from both sides, floating around out there. They all need ceremonial burial when we find them."

Starbuck twisted her face. "Even the Cylons?"

Keller nodded. "Especially the Cylons. Most of the Cylons in the universe are our enemies, but you know we've got some Cylon allies as well, right?"

Tyrol nodded, while Starbuck just looked horrified.

"Well, that's part of our arrangement with them. Some of our Cylon allies are non-combatants – they'll help us with non-military needs, but won't fight against other Cylons – and some of our Cylons fight like tigers – but they've all agreed that they want us to respect their dead. You won't believe what a nightmare that turned out to be, since they outnumber us so much. Thankfully, if we can establish that there was a Resurrection ship in operation near a battle, we can just treat dead Cylons as biohazard material."

Starbuck shook her head. "Let me get this straight: you have to bury Cylons with military honors?"

Keller shrugged. "We've gotten used to it. We don't actually perform the services, the Cylons do that."

Starbuck continued, "Raiders too?"

"Sort of. The Chrome Jobs scoop them all together and do some little ceremony where they burn the organic parts. They then give the mechanical parts to us for harvesting. Tylium, precious metals, hell, we can melt down and use almost anything in a raider."

Tyrol raised an eyebrow. "Chrome Jobs? I haven't heard that one before. Those are the old Centurions, right? How well do you get along with the rebel Cylons?"

Keller looked straight at Tyrol. "Here's the deal. How much do you know about Cylons?"

Kara, who unlike Keller was fully aware that the Chief was a Cylon himself, allowed herself a moment's amusement before rescuing Tyrol who was clearly at a loss for words. She said, "Pretend we know nothing. We've been together so long that maybe we could use a different perspective."

Keller smiled. "Ok, here it is. Think of the Chrome Jobs, the old Centurions, as autistic kids with weapons. Their social skills suck, they're kind of hard to communicate with, they view the world differently than us. That said, they're certainly not dumb, they are very logical, and they can actually be kind of interesting to talk to after a while. I would go so far as to say some of them are our friends. Now, Skin Jobs, they're just like us, pretty much. Stronger, able to interface with computers, more resistant to disease and radiation, but other than that, practically human. Different members of the same model usually share certain personality traits but they're all individuals. The Raiders – well, the new Raiders, that is, think of them as police dogs. Not very bright compared to humans, they're instruments, not individuals like we would think of them, not really able to communicate much more than "enemies here, allies here, fuel there", but very loyal and willing to endure anything to complete a mission. We have a pilot project going on right now, a detached group of a skin job, a couple of humans, and some chrome jobs trying to retrain some new-style Raiders we've captured."

Keller paused, and then went on, "Yeah...they really are like dogs. Like I said, not as smart as humans, but some are smarter than others and you kind of treat them like dogs. Well, abused dogs who don't like humans and have 50 millimeter cannons. If we can find a way to bring some to our side that would be a really good thing."

Kara muttered, "Great, more Cylons. You really like them?"

Keller looked Kara in the eyes at first. "I despise most Cylons. Hated the ideas of working with our so-called allies at first. But, we've been through a lot together. There's been a lot of industrial accidents, we've worked together, and there have even been some combat skirmishes with the main Cylon forces. Those are a nightmare, because they don't know we exist and the Captain likes to keep it that way. There's been a few chrome jobs who sacrificed themselves, on two occasions, to save humans when stuff went wrong. A couple of humans have been pretty banged up saving some chrome jobs as well, and Mike Jorgenson from my deck gave his life saving seven chrome jobs from a fire on their basestar. Both sides remember stuff like that."

Tyrol said, "You've fought the main Cylon forces and kept it secret?"

Keller nodded. "Don't ask me how. It's classified, I can't discuss the details without permission, but yeah, the main Cylon race, their government or whatever they have, does not know we exist and that was hard as hell to pull off." 

Starbuck snorted. "Military intelligence. Should have known a CHSV would have a bunch of spooks aboard."

Keller smiled. "Spooks and Cylons. They've bonded better than anyone else. Guess it figures. Machine-like humans and human-like machines, what's the difference?"

Starbuck was about to reply, but was interrupted by a _Preserver_ crewman who had come darting into the hold.

"Captain Thrace! The Admiral wants to see you. If you'll come with me, sir."

Kara smiled inwardly at the slight accent the eager crewman had put on the world "admiral" - obviously, the Adama legend was fully imprinted on the _Preserver_ crew. "Wouldn't want to keep the Admiral waiting, specialist....?" Kara's voice ended with a question, to which the crewman quickly replied.

"Anders, sir. Thomas Anders."

Kara squinted at the crewman. She couldn't see any resemblance, but...

"Any relation to Samuel Anders?"

"The Pyramid Player? No, sir."

Kara muttered, "Could have fooled me. You look shiny and new like a little baby toaster."

Specialist Anders couldn't quite make out what Starbuck had said. His head was swimming with thoughts: joy over finding the legendary fleet, excitement over being in the same room as the Admiral, and nervousness over meeting Starbuck, whom a _Galactica_ crewman had already described as "a really nasty, really crazy but brilliant piece of work."

He was so overwhelmed that he never bothered to mention why Adama wanted Starbuck.

A totally unsuspecting Kara Thrace followed Specialist Anders into a conference room. Her ears caught the sound a split second before she heard its source; she barely had time to think,

_..what's that noise..._

ZUUUUUH-ZUUUUUH

before she saw the Command Centurion's single red "eye" as she stepped into the room.

Starbuck wasn't even aware of what she was doing. Training made her response automatic.

_Threat._

_Draw sidearm._

_SHOOT!_

Her aim was off, just a bit, as Chad hit her arm as she pulled the trigger twice. The sound was deafening in the small room.

"STARBUCK, STAND DOWN!"

Starbuck heard, dimly, Adama's voice even as she dived under a table - she went one way, and the Centurion dived another. The metal robot moved with a speed and grace that defied its bulk and ungainly appearance. Starbuck flipped the table over with one arm to give herself greater cover, and kicked the captain of the _Preserver _away with one foot.

_Fast little toaster!_

And then, the Centurion spoke in its metallic voice. Starbuck could have sworn she could actually hear anger in it.

"YOU ARE NOT STARBUCK! YOU ARE FEMALE!"

She poked her head above the table and squeezed off a single unaimed round, hoping to make the Cylon take cover. A _zing!_ indicated a ricochet flying past her ear. She yelled at the top of her lungs.

"What's the matter, toaster, afraid you're going to get your ass kicked by a human girl?"

Adama bellowed, "Starbuck, HOLSTER YOUR WEAPON!"

Starbuck yelled back. "Admiral, there's a gods-damned real toaster in here!" Dimly, she remembered Chief Keller talking about "chrome jobs" - she had heard, but she hadn't quite realized the implications...to have _Centurions_ just...walking around the ship!

An angry machine voice rumbled back. "Crazy frakking bitch!"

Kara nearly choked. She poked her head over the table, and saw that the Admiral was now standing next to the Centurion, and that the Cylon's sidearm was still in its holster. She let her gun hand drop to her side, still holding her pistol, and stood up.

"Never had a frakking robot call me a crazy frakking bitch before."

The Cylon replied in its slow, machine voice. "I am sure some humans have called you that before. Did you think your Admiral would summon you here for me to shoot you? That is not intelligent."

_Great, a toaster is now insulting my IQ._

Starbuck decided to change the subject. "Why do you say that "I'm not Starbuck?"

The Centurion replied, "I was shot down over a planet during the War of Liberation-"

"First Cylon War," murmured Chad.

"- and became friends with a Colonial Viper pilot whom I had similarly downed. He said his name was Starbuck. I helped him repair a craft so that he could allow a human female to leave the planet. My internal systems failed shortly afterwards and I was recovered by a Cylon patrol approximate fourteen months later. I could not search for Starbuck without antagonizing my fellow Cylons, so I do not know what his fate was. I hope he is well. You are not Starbuck."

"Hate to tell you this, but that was a long time ago and call signs get recycled. He wasn't in the fleet anymore, though, or I could not have taken the name "Starbuck" myself.

The red eye of the Centurion made two complete circuits before it spoke again. "You are correct. It has been fifty-three years. He would have passed mandatory Colonial retirement age."

Starbuck suppressed a twinge of guilt. She vaguely remembered being tossed a dossier on the prior holder of the call sign "Starbuck" back at the Academy – it was a Fleet tradition to read up on whomever had the call sign before – but she had never opened it. The memory was vague because she had been out drinking that same night.

_Gods, I'm feeling sorry because I can't give closure to a toaster._

Starbuck took note of the angry glares on the faces of Adama and Lazacs.

"You must be one of the good toasters I heard about. Sorry for shooting at you."

The gold Centurion actually sounded amused as it replied in mechanical tones. "I will not call you Crazy Frakking Bitch if you no longer call me toaster."

"Sounds fair. What should I call you?"

"Starbuck named me Cy. That name is adequate."

The Viper pilot slowly put her pistol in its holster, before extending a hand to the Centurion.

"Captain Kara Thrace, call sign Starbuck. Nice to meet you, Cy."


	8. Public Relations

Ok, the big climatic death scene for chapter 8 that I mentioned to some reviewers is being put off for a later chapter. Anyhow, here's a quickie chapter so you know I'm still on it, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 8 – Public Relations

Bill Adama should have been tired, but he wasn't.

_I shaved this morning, and since then we've increased the number of people in our fleet by ten percent, our military striking force by at least fifty percent, and solved our food problem for the foreseeable future. And I've shook hands with a Cylon Centurion who is almost as old as I am. Maybe even older._

He had listened with rapt attention to "Cy the Cylon" speak about the downed pilot – ironically, one from _Galactica_, although Adama had not known him – who had once gone by the name Starbuck. The tale had been bizarre, to say the least – Cy and Starbuck had worked together to rebuild a usable ship out of wrecked craft in order to launch a new mother and her child into space. Despite Starbuck's best efforts, Cy had eventually suffered an involuntary power-down and had lain dormant in a sheltered cave for a few years until a Cylon patrol had found him

No one knew what had happened to the old Viper pilot, other than he had taken great pains to make sure that Cy was well protected from the elements. The patrol that had rescued Cy had found no trace of Starbuck, otherwise known as Lieutenant Thomas Peck.

Already, rumors had spread throughout the returned civilian fleet about the new arrivals, although contact between the two fleets was currently limited to repair and support personnel. The _Preserver's_ fleet had long since been tested – several times over – for Cylon infiltrators, but until testing for disguised Cylons had been completed on _Galactica's_ ships, both Adama and Lazacs had concluded it wasn't worth the risk of revealing the existence of the rebel Cylons to the rest of the fleet. No one wanted a hidden agent to communicate back to the Cylon collective that there were renegade Cylons helping the Colonials.

Everyone in authority agreed that it was best to wait until the screening was completed before mentioning that the fleet now had a few more Cylon friends in addition to Sharon Agathon. However, despite strict orders to the _Preserver_ fleet's support teams to keep quiet, some secrets are just too big to keep.

_**Afternoon Press Conference, Colonial One [transcript]**_

Tori Foster: Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the Twelve Colonies, Laura Roslin

Laura Roslin: Good afternoon. As many of you may have heard, there are rumors circulating that additional survivors from the Twelve Colonies have found our fleet. I am very pleased to confirm that these rumors are absolutely true.

[extensive murmuring from assembled reporters]

Laura Roslyn: The lead ship of the fleet that has joined with us is a military ship, the Colonial Heavy Salvage Vessel _Preserver_. This is an extremely large support ship that was specifically designed to support Battlestar fleets on extended detached duty, and the ship is fully functional. She is commanded by Captain Chad Lazacs, who also served under Admiral Adama on _Galactica._

[several jumbled calls of "Madame President!" are heard]

Laura Roslyn: Please, let me continue, I will answer your questions, I know you have many, many questions, in just a few minutes. However, I hope my prepared statement will answer the basics. Um, yes, _Preserver_ as I stated is a support ship. That means that she is ready and able to attend to the maintenance needs of every ship in this fleet. Already, requests are being prioritized, and crews from the _Preserver_ are already onboard the _Hitei Kan_, the _Monarch_, the _Zephyr_, and _Galatica_ attending to their most critical needs. Initial plans are that every ship in the fleet will be surveyed by the end of the week, and that every vessel will have had a C-check performed within the next six months, and that vessels that need it will also have D-checks performed.

There are also a mixture of smaller civilian and military ships with the _Preserver_. For purposes of military security, the, um, exact composition of those ships will remain a secret for the time bean, excuse me, time being.

[Roslyn drops her papers, and picks them up from the floor]

Excuse me. I'm sorry, we've just added thirty-five hundred people to our fleet, and I'm just very excited.

[Loud clapping ensues]

Thank you. No, thank Captain Lazacs, who has led his fleet to join ours. The good news isn't finished. In additional to substantial social infrastructure support staff – doctors, teachers, police – the _Preserver _has ample food supplies. I am very, very pleased to announce that _Galactica _and _Preserver_ personnel, in addition to the crews of each ship in the fleet, are at this very moment working extremely hard to make an initial distribution of food to every ship in this fleet. In other words, it is the policy of this government that tonight, by the end of this day, not a single person in this fleet will be dine on algae.

[Clapping is heard and continues for over a minute]

There are many, many details that remain to be told, however, today is a day of celebration for humanity. We ask you to be patient; it will take a week or so to integrate the fleets and expand the intra-ship shuttle services and media network to the new ships. We'll be moving as quickly as we can. I'll take a few questions now.

[James McManus]Madame President, James McManus, Colonial Gang. Is the appearance of this fleet related to the arrest of Gaius Baltar?

[Roslyn] Yes, it is. Gaius Baltar has been arrested on various charges based upon information contained in an indictment issued by the Fifth District Colonial Superior court, which was kept intact on _Preserver. Preserver _has kept the judiciary branch intact through the holocaust and we are still waiting for more details on the charges, although I understand that they relate to crimes against humanity. Constitutional scholars in the fleet will recall that my presidential pardon power do not extend to crimes against humanity, and thus Baltar may still be prosecuted for such crimes. I do not want to sully this day by discussing these charges any more, but I assure you more information will be forthcoming.

[Edward Meier] Ed Meier, Colonial Dispatch. Madame President, I'm, ahem [Meier appears overcome by emotion] I'm sorry, this is wonderful news, and I know, I know the odds are against it, a few thousand out of a population of billions, but still. Oh Gods. Madame President, there must be those in the larger fleet who want to know if perhaps their friends or family could be with the new fleet. Have your people thought of this and how quickly will manifests of the survivors be distributed?

[Roslyn] Thank you, Ed. I know this is a concern. And it's true, some of us do have friends and family aboard the new ships. The _Preserver_ rescued survivors from a small fleet of ships that the _Pegasus _had previously encountered, and those families are already being reunited. I, myself, was pleased to see that Sandy Thomas, a judge I knew from the Adar administration, is among the survivors. All I can say is that we'll have that manifest out as quickly as possible, possibly by the end of the day.

[Foster] It's already available, one copy is being sent to each ship with the initial food distribution.

[John Sowell] Madame President, News Review. Will this impact tyllium reserves?

[Roslyn] Why yes, John. We now have more reserves than ever.

[general laughter]

[Unidentified Reporter] [inaudible] Are [inaudible] any [inaudible] battlestars?

[Roslyn] Admiral Adama? [Roslyn glances at Admiral Adama who shakes his head slightly] I believe that the Admiral would prefer if I don't comment on military matters for the time being.

[Admiral Adama] Excuse me, Madame President, I meant no, no battlestars in the group, although there are some military ships I would prefer to wait a few days before discussing details of them.

[Roslyn] There you have it, does that answer your question?

[Unidentified reporter] Yes, thank you.

[Roslyn] Last question, please. Playa?

[Playa Palacios] Madame President, do you have any comment on reports that the _Monarch_ has observed what appears to be an older-model Cylon basestar with its navigational telescopes and the when it communicated its concerns to _Galactica_ it was told "not to worry about it?"

[Roslyn] What? Uh. Excuse me?

[consternation and alarmed chatter]

[Roslyn] I have said before that military questions should be directed to the Admiral.

[Admiral Adama] [softly, picked up by secondary microphone] oh, thanks, Laura. [louder] We've said previously that there are security aspects in play that we do not want to communicate quite yet. We are not totally certain that we've purged all Cylon agents from the fleet, although after New Caprica I think we all know what they look like some may still be disguised. There's things we don't want them to know. That being said, I think it's unlikely there are any Cylons hiding in our fleet, and because I don't want there to be any unwarranted concern, I will answer that question. Yes, there is a First Cylon War era basestar included in the _Preserver_ fleet, and for military purposes it is under Colonial fleet command. Obviously, this could be a significant tactical advantage should we engage the Cylon fleet in combat and I will not discuss it further.

[Roslyn] Thank you, and let us give thanks to the Lords of Kobol for blessing us on this day.

[transcript ends]

_**A few minutes later, Laura Roslyn's office**_

"How the HELL did they see her? She was supposed to be out of sight!"

"I'm sorry, Laura, she's far enough away and well outside DRADIS range, the odds of her being picked up by a telescope were, well, astronomical," Bill Adama replied.

"And why wasn't the radio communication with _Monarch_ handled with more discretion? 'Don't worry about it' Bill! Come on!"

Adama looked Laura in the eyes. "It was a mistake. Someone will pay."

Laura sighed, as the fight went out of her. "Oh well, now maybe it'll be less of a shock when we have to reveal we have friendly Cylons running around."

She paused, and then continued, "Under Colonial fleet command? Hah! Bill, I never knew you took ballet!"

Bill barked, "Excuse me?"

Laura smiled sweetly, "Well, you certainly danced around that reporter's question like a prima ballerina. Nice dodge, Admiral. Colonial commands to a gold-plated Centurion who at least has the good sense to recognize that Starbuck is crazy. Didn't know you had it in you. We'll make a politician out of you yet."

Adama grunted. "I'll retire first."

Laura lowered her voice. "I'll draft you."

Bill's voice was light. "I'd like to see you try."


End file.
